


The Two Of Us Together

by posideoin



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rejection, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 01:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17612996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posideoin/pseuds/posideoin
Summary: “What is it, John?” It was tentative and nervous. As if Paul didn’t really want to know.John didn’t blame him. “Have you ever thought about it?”Paul’s face only got more tense. “What? Thought about what?” He moved closer into John’s eyesight, wanting to understand best he could.“Us...” Quiet. “Together.”





	The Two Of Us Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! I'm not super amazing with dates and I ask that you take the timeline/events with a grain of salt. I didn't do an amazing amount of research. Just what I needed. Either way its fiction. Enjoy!

It’s 1958.

Liverpool was wet. Somber. Yet fall had just arrived, and trees outlining paths grew to be yellow, red, orange, and brown. Everyone within eyesight wore a scarf and a long coat with the collar popped. Heavy fabric lay against red cheeks in the evening.

John felt no different from every person he saw. He felt like a flower in a field of a million flowers. Haphazardly popping his collar, he tightened his shoulders against the wind and started with an uncertain step. Today was just like any other. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe today would be the start of something amazing. Or maybe not. John had trouble understanding his own thoughts as he shoved his nose into his scarf.

Walking towards Paul’s house had become something he could do without even opening his eyes. Every turn, every shortcut, it was all burned into his skull. Something he cherished. He was never one to understate his appreciation for his friends. Today especially, he supposed.

John walked a few more blocks, stopping short to run into the nearest store and grab some cigarettes, chatting with the cashier, which he knew from going in so often. When the cashier asked him why he was out on such a dreary day, John didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was his nerves. He decided to say:

“I’m out to see my friend Paul.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Have a great one, John. Don’t forget to come back.”

John didn’t know what he expected to hear. That was fine. Honestly.

Leaving the shop, Paul’s place wasn’t far. It took him around five minutes to get there, yet when he ended up in front of his door, it took everything John had to raise his knuckles. He hit the wood 3 times.

Paul opened the door no less than two seconds after. John’s heart may have jumped.

“Come in, come in!” Paul smiled from ear to ear. Really, it was unnecessary.

When he stepped into Paul’s house he felt a burst of warmth surround him. His body released the chill it had gathered from being outside and finally, his shoulders relaxed. Looking around, John saw only familiar things. Things he’s seen a hundred times before. In the evening, the afternoon. Things he’s almost knocked over when trying to sneak out with Paul in the early morning.

“Just wake up, Macca? You look like a mess.” A hand fell on Paul’s head, ruffling his hair aggressively, to which Paul attempted to escape quickly.

“Fuck off, will ya’? I’ve already been out and everything today. What do you know.” It was said with annoyance, but lovingly. “Are ya’ gonna take your coat off or are you leaving already?”

“Actually, I thought we might be inclined to take a walk.” If John’s voice cracked he tried not to acknowledge it.

Paul paused. Confusion crossed his features. “Seriously. In this weather?”

“Aw come on, you sound like you’re not even from Liverpool, Mac! Put on a jacket and come on.” John made a point by buttoning another button on his coat and shimmying a bit in the doorway.

Paul looked at him with disdain for another moment before he walked over to grab his jacket from the hanger it was thrown over. Begrudgingly, mind you. It didn’t take him long to button up and throw a scarf over what was left of the skin on his neck. John wouldn’t say he was sad to watch it go. Though when Paul urged him to turn around and open the door, John obliged happily, holding the door open and closing it behind Paul.

“So what's your plan here, princess?” Paul looked up at John from the bottom step, his right eyebrow almost fully hid behind his messy hair as it always was. “Are we gonna find our way to Narnia?” He chuckled at his own joke as he started walking aimlessly down the street.

John caught up, skipping a few steps, “Do I always have to have some big scheme? What if I just want to walk with you, huh? That a crime?” He leaned heavily to his right and bumped Paul, making the younger man lose his step. Paul retaliated by bumping John even harder, almost pushing him into his neighbor's house. John laughed at that, giving Paul an “Oh Really?” sort of look. Paul’s chin dropped into his scarf with a laugh, and the crinkle in his eyes made John feel like he’d accomplished something.

John’s heart hadn’t stopped beating at twice the pace since last night, when he decided he was going to attempt to do this in the first place, and it was becoming exhausting for him.

Reaching the gate Paul and John both knew all too well, John jogged up ahead and pushed lightly on the metal, which opened to them. Beyond was a dirt path. They’d been down it many times, it wasn’t like this was something amazing, or over-the-top. Just nice. Home-y.

“The field, hunh? Never a bad place to be.” Paul noted, pattering in front of John to get through the gate. Watching him, John noticed how red Paul’s nose and cheeks had gotten since they started walking and maybe felt bad; though they had been out in worse before.

As they started down the path, John couldn’t help but notice how the trees seemed to get closer and closer near the end of his vision, creating an illusion that they were simply being lead to their destiny. The wind had picked up a bit, and John’s hair was now just as messy as Paul’s originally was. Though Paul’s was worse now, flying all over the place. They were silent for a while. John wished he could disappear.

“Remember that bench when you get to the crossroads? I was thinking we could sit there.” John said offhand. Looking to break whatever air was hanging between them.

“Sit?” Paul said with a chuckle, “It’s too cold for that.”

“Maybe you’re right.” John mumbled into his scarf.

“What’re we doing anyway?” A look was handed John’s way as they walked, “If we’re just walking I think I’d rather turn around. Warmth sounds much better to me.” Paul held his shoulders tight to his ears, searching for any way to become warmer.

John stopped halfway down the path.

Walking over to the edge of the dirt, he kicked around a few leaves and stones. John watched as Paul stopped in his tracks and followed him. It was hard not to focus on the softness of Paul’s face. The look of confusion and slight worry that wrought his features, making them mold in different ways. John watched as his friends lips tightened and his eyebrows knit. They didn’t look natural that way.

“What is it, John?” It was tentative and nervous. As if Paul didn’t really want to know.

John didn’t blame him. “Have you ever thought about it?”

Paul’s face only got more tense. “What? Thought about what?” He moved closer into John’s eyesight, wanting to understand best he could.

“Us...” Quiet. “Together.” John’s shoe hit a root.

It wasn’t the silence that killed him. What did, was Paul’s face finally relaxing. What did, was the slight turn on Paul’s lip and the sigh that escaped his mouth. Maybe it was it a laugh. John’s face felt like it was going to explode.

“No, John.”

John said nothing. John couldn’t lift his face if he wanted to.

“John I’m gonna head home, alright? It’s too cold out here. Seriously.” Paul quickly rubbed his nose and shoved his hand back into his pocket. John was stupid. John was a complete idiot.

“I’ll see you at practice.” Was the last thing John heard before he was alone.

Moving wasn’t even an option at this point. John felt like the world was crumbling around him. Or maybe it was just the leaves falling from the trees.

Who was he to think that Paul would ever consider him anything more than a friend. That Paul had considered anyone but women. John decided he was insane. John decided that he was wrong.

John decided to get over Paul. Or maybe, it would never be that easy.

 

The next practice went fine. John couldn’t look at Paul, but it was fine. They didn’t get anything done, but it was fine. Maybe it was John that wasn’t fine. Paul didn’t seem to care. He joked around with George and Ringo. Paul probably didn’t even remember. John was okay with that. He might even be okay if Paul just forgot him entirely, because it feels like he keeps embarrassing himself at every turn.

“You coming to my place tonight, Len? The boys are coming too.” Paul stared at John like he always did. This time it made Johns skin crawl.

“I think I’m gonna linger. Don’t get too drunk.” John feigned a smile in Paul’s direction.

Paul didn’t move from where he was for a moment. John could feel the boys eyes on his back. They were burning him. Like they always did. Like they always would. Finally after what felt like forever, John heard soft footsteps falling on creaky wood, and a door lightly closing behind someone. John couldn’t help but let his head fall into his hands. He sat for a second with his eyes closed so tight it hurt. _Stupid. You’ve ruined everything now. It’s your fault._

John ruffled his own hair with frustration and quickly stood up, the power of his calves pushing the chair he was sitting on backwards. Haphazardly, he chucked his acoustic guitar on the cushioned couch Ringo and George had previously been sitting on, and left to his room to try and sleep off his anger.

With every day that passed, John understood himself less and less. It wasn’t easy. In fact it might have been the hardest mental turmoil he had put himself through to date. The idea of leaving the group, or leaving Paul for that matter, wasn’t even something that crossed his mind. He just felt stupid. He felt queer.

Though Paul always seemed more than happy to just forget about it. Paul was always there. Where John was. Paul was always asking him if he wanted to be included. Paul was always sitting across from him, strumming his guitar in that mesmerizing way. Because of this, what John had amped himself up to think was going to be hard, simply became finding a way to love his best friend platonically. John figured this was something he could actually manage.

And platonic love it became. John turned his anger into light touches, or concerned gazes. John turned his nights of questioning every move he made at the field into nights sitting on the floor of his room, Paul across from him, both trying to find notes, or chords, that fit the mood. When John would shift his body weight forward, letting his calf rest against Paul’s, neither of them would say anything, except for “That one sounds good, Mac, play it again.”

John met Cynthia. John and Cynthia split. John met Yoko. Paul met Linda. Life seemed to be coming up fine. The Beatles blew up. But John and Paul both knew that was going to happen, sitting on John’s floor that night in 58’, and 59’, and 60’, and so on. Maybe they didn’t fully know, but in retrospect John can’t pull up any time where they really questioned it. It was fun. At times. At other times, John felt like a monkey in a cage being stared at by millions of tourists just passing by. Not a single one of them really caring about who he was.

By 1969, John felt trapped. John and Yoko were a good team. They brainstormed idea after idea. John felt fulfilled and satisfied and matched in his creativity by Yoko. John felt like he could truly be himself with her. But himself was a funny word. A word with a definition that seemed to change over the years. John felt that he had changed a lot. More than any of the other band members, that was for damn sure.

John felt driven emotionally and physically by a sense of peace and love and oneness with all people. Yoko felt the same. John found a purpose that was not just ‘The Beatles,’ John found a purpose in campaigning and fighting for what he believed in. John felt something true within his heart, and following it fully and with all of his time was something inevitable for him. Sure, music still meant everything to him, he had never claimed it didn’t, but simply being a part of The Beatles didn’t fulfill him anymore. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

He wasn’t that kid sitting on his floor, staring at his best friend, feeling the deepest and most real moment of love he could ever describe. Not anymore.

John Lennon was simply John Lennon now.

_I’m leaving the group._

“I’m leaving the group.” The words rang in the room like the drop of a ten pound weight.

The entire band were all falling around thirty years old. John had let his hair grow out long, same with Paul, who had also grown out a full beard. When John looked at his friend, he didn’t know if he could even recognize him anymore. The flicker of light he always use to spot in Paul’s iris wasn’t shining anymore. Paul’s face was somber, and his jaw was hanging slightly open. It closed after a second.

“Are you going to announce it?” A soft voice. The one thing that John could actually recognize.

“No. Decided there’s no need for it. I’m just leaving. Like people do.”

Paul nodded, with a small sigh of relief and understanding.

“Good,” A tiny smile peaked through the hair covering his lips, “If you don’t announce it, then it’s like nothing really happened.”

John decided that was a fine enough thought. John didn’t even feel like the world needed to know. It was his band. His band full of his friends. The only people that needed to know he wouldn’t be there in the studio to help them make music was them. And so Paul knew. And John felt a weight lift off of his shoulders.

Telling the rest of the band was easier then John had expected. He just said it. He strung his words together in a way that was a bit harsh, but he got his point across. That was all he needed. Ringo and George were surprised, but just like when he had told Paul, it faded quickly. John could tell the entire band could feel that he was drifting away. They all were. They all were doing things in their lives that simply didn’t need to co-exist with being in a famous rock and roll band. Families. Children. Lives.

John sat in their meeting until it was over. Until everyone understood what was happening. That was the group. Its over. The Beatles are no more. And everyone came to terms with it, even though John already had. Around 6 months ago. With a sigh, John stood from his chair in the studio, gathering his bag from the corner of the room and looking back to see the others also standing and saying their goodbyes. John walked over and gave every single one of his band-members a quick pull of a hug. Mumbling a goodbye to each one.

When he got to Paul, he gave him a little smile, pulling him in quick and patting his back a few times before backing up. “Alright, Paulie. This is it, hunh.” John let out a small chuckle, trying to keep the mood as light as he could. He didn’t have any expectation for what Paul’s reply would be, as he looked back, seeing the last person in the studio exit, leaving just him and Paul.

When John’s eyes returned to Paul’s figure from the door, what he didn’t expect was for Paul’s shoulders to be tight, and his head slightly facing the floor. John felt a very sudden, and scary, change in the air of the room.

Paul mumbled.

“Sorry?” John took a small step back from his spot in front of Paul. He felt uneasy.

“I thought about it.” Paul clarified, though the words were still soft.

John didn’t understand what his friend was talking about in the beginning. Thought about what? John leaving? Did Paul have a different opinion on it now? It was kind of too late. Everyone had left the room. The Beatles were now just John, Paul, George and Ringo. Just four people.

“The field. I thought about it.” Paul seemed to relax a little bit, turning his head to stare at the switchboard in the studio, or maybe just at nothing. Or anything.

Oh.

John gets it now. John gets it.

A laugh escaped the older mans lips, and his body shook before coming to a stop.

“That night hunh? We were stupid kids, weren’t we. I swear sometimes I can’t even see how that was me.”

Paul’s body shook with a tiny chuckle, but his eyes still never moved from the wall, the glass, the buttons. John couldn’t pinpoint where he was looking. All John knew was that Paul’s body language had never ever been like this before. Or maybe… once it had. At the field.

“Sometimes I think maybe that was the most really us we’ve ever been.” Paul completely negated John’s comment, offering the complete opposite.

John felt himself melt. Heat spread through his entire body. “That’s probably right, ya know.” John smiled, thinking about how much fun they had back then.”But people grow up. That’s how it is.” He stated what he felt. John truly believed this.

Paul knew he did. And it made him believe it as well, because John was smart, and Paul knew that about him, like other people didn’t. Paul knew a lot about John that other people didn’t. Like all of the stories he’d told him, sitting on their floor, in the field, on some rocks overlooking a river, walking down Penny Lane. Paul knew almost every little thing about his best friend. Or his friend. Or whatever they were becoming. Acquaintances.

Paul’s eyes flashed up towards John for the first time since he had said anything. John saw Paul’s eyelashes flutter like he always did before Paul moved towards him and embraced him in a hug. This one was longer that what John had originally planned for, but John was not one to shy away from intimacy. Not anymore. John held love for everyone on the planet. So he hugged Paul back.

“John,” Paul’s voice stuttered against John’s sweater, “I really thought about it. I’m not joking.”

John sighed. John knew what he had meant the first time. But what John didn’t want to do was make this any harder for the both of them. John thought he had successfully changed the subject. John had a life. Yoko. Paul had a family.

“Give it up, Mac.” John whispered this into the air behind Paul’s head as his grip tightened on Paul’s back. “That time is over now.” John could feel the hiccup of Paul’s first sob. John didn’t want either of them to feel pain. Especially not Paul. John’s chest felt tight. He could tell that the week Paul had to dwell on John’s announcement had taken a toll. 

Pulling himself back, John allowed his hands to roam to Paul’s face, holding his friends head still with two palms against both of his ears. Looking at him from this angle, John could only see the seventeen year old boy he had confessed to over ten years ago.

“I loved you,” John felt the heat of their eye contact as if it was a fire between them. “And I love you. You’ve known that.” John released the breath he was holding.

“I love you too.” Paul responded, and John’s hands fell from his hair.

John looked at him as if that was all he’d ever wanted to hear. As if that’s all Paul would have needed to said back in 58’, and they could be here today, holding hands and loving. At the thought, John felt tears begin to well in his own eyes, though he tried his best to calm them, and he turned his head away from Paul in hopes that he didn’t catch it.

Taking a step back, John looked at the ground for a moment, then back up to Paul, who looked as if he was a mess.

“Just,” John began, as hundreds of memories of their trip to Paris, late night talks, drunken nights, exchanged gazes, all flowed through his mind, “think about me every once and awhile, would ya’, Mac?” A smile crossed his features as he waited for a reply.

“Of course.” Paul could think of no other response.

And with that John turned, no show of hesitation as he grabbed the doorknob, opened the door and took a step through. Turning around to close it, he stopped to look at Paul one last time, raising his other hand in a small wave. And then the door was shut.

Paul’s mind rushed, scrambling with nowhere to go.

He decided to take some time to himself in the studio. To think.

On that cold day in September of 1969,

The end of John Lennon and Paul McCartney.


End file.
